


sweet thing

by parrishes



Category: Hellsing
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrishes/pseuds/parrishes
Summary: He is bound to her, and glad of it.[Pip/Seras, smut]
Relationships: Pip Bernadotte/Seras Victoria
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	sweet thing

Underneath him, Seras twists, and Pip can’t help but smile. Yes, he is bound to her, bound to obey her above all things–and glad of it. Being part of her, sharing her existence… it really isn’t so bad, he thinks, if _this_ is something he gets the privilege to experience.

It’s a far better afterlife than the one he’d envisioned for himself, during his fleeting moments of belief. Certainly a better one than he deserved.

Below him, Seras grabs at his wrist as he thrusts his fingers inside her, his loose hair pooling in spirals on her abdomen, her teeth clenched against her groans. Her left arm shimmers faintly, so faintly that to the unknowing, human eye it would look like any normal limb, but Pip knows better. It’s the wound she took for him and his, and even this–his eternal servitude to her–isn’t enough to repay her for what she’s done.

She’s beautiful like this, he thinks, with her fair hair splayed out on the pillow of the bed she’d insisted on bringing into her dungeon chamber, for purposes of ostensible normalcy. Her idea had been that her coffin could be quickly disguised as a table, so any unknowing humans wouldn’t be alarmed (as if many would be walking down to her bedroom to begin with), and the bed was just for show. Pip had just snorted. If Seras thought she was fooling anyone with her lame excuse, she was clearly delusional–everyone and their mother could see that the bed was clearly there so he could fuck her in it.

He isn’t complaining, though. It _is_ far easier to fuck her in the bed than having to hold her up against the wall, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Pip thrusts his fingers into her again and she mewls, hips bucking, thighs slipping over his as she chases the pleasure, desperate for more of his touch. He watches her out of his eye critically, analyzing her, evaluating just how needy she _is_ and just how needy she _needs_ to be for him to allow her to come.

She could be needier, but she’s been such a good girl… Maybe he’ll take pity on her.

Pip applies his thumb to her clit, still fucking her with his fingers, and she _moans_. Her grip on his wrist turns punishing, hard enough to break it had he still been human, but all he feels is a pleasant squeeze. Her other hand reaches above her head to grip the pillow hard enough that her knuckles turn even whiter, and he grins.

It takes only a few moments for the movement of her hips to become erratic and jerky, for her moans to turn to cries, and it will be soon, he knows it. “That’s it, Seras–” he pants encouragingly, breathless even though neither of them need to breathe, “–that’s it; come on,” and, for the (un)life of him, she _does_. Her walls clench his fingers so tightly that guiding her through the aftershocks becomes a struggle, and he _feels_ her wail echo all the way through him–his ears, his hands, his _cock_ …

It’s a strong climax, pleasant enough, he’s sure, but Pip wants more from her. He wants her driven mad with it, wants her swollen and dripping and deliriously content. So he doesn’t stop once her residual tremors fade, doesn’t let her rest, not that she really needs to; he keeps the pace up and tries not to get distracted by her half-lidded oxblood eyes and open-mouthed moans and the near-pained expression on her face.

Seras looks up at him, curiosity and arousal mixing in her gaze, meeting his fingers with every rock of her hips. When he starts to rub her clit again in quick, vicious circles, though, any languorousness in her vanishes, replaced by heat and tension and something akin to alarm.

“You can do better,” he says, suddenly acutely aware of how hard he is, wanting her to fall over the edge so they can move on to something a bit more… _substantial_. “Come on, Seras. Give me another one. A bigger one. Show me how much better you can do.”

She’s gyrating beneath him, writhing, both hands gripping the pillow above her head with such force it’s a wonder it hasn’t torn under her grip. Her movements are entirely out of her control, he’s pleased to note, her hips moving helplessly from the overstimulation against his hand, chest heaving, and Pip thinks it might be the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen.

A few more thrusts and circles have Seras tumbling over, the side of her face pressed deeply into the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open in a cry of pleasure, her back arching off the bed. Her legs tighten involuntarily around his hips and he falls flush against her, still making sure to work her through her fading quakes, his head nestled in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

This time, he lets her enjoy the afterglow. They lay chest-to-chest in silence, cooling in the dark, until he feels her start to shift around, in hesitant, minute increments that brush those beautiful tits of hers against him. Pip pretends not to notice her movements, instead pressing open-mouthed, lazy kisses to the side of her neck where her scar sits, and waits to see what she’ll do.

All she does is wiggle underneath his weight, tiny grunts here and there the only sign that she might still be feeling a little… _unfulfilled_ , so Pip forces her hand. He purposefully angles himself so that, the next time she moves, her stiff little nipples drag across his skin, and her breathy “Oh!” is all the confirmation he needs.

Pushing himself up onto his hands, he grins triumphantly down at Seras, who determinedly avoids his gaze. Her face is almost as red as her eyes, and Pip chuckles as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Do you need something?” he asks as his hands come to fondle her breasts. He sucks a kiss into the underside of her jaw, nipping down her neck to her collarbone, laving each small bite with his tongue. “Is something wrong, Seras?”

“N-no,” she answers, gasping when he pinches her nipple, blushing even harder. “N-no, n-nothing’s… wrong…”

“Hm.” Pip nibbles at her clavicle before kissing a wandering trail across the top of her chest, not blind to the way her hands come up to tangle themselves in his hair. “See, I think you’re lying, Seras.” He licks and sucks and kisses his way to the valley between her breasts, tickling the side of each one with his nose. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

Her hands tighten, tugging at the strands. “N-no, of course not,” she says, as he scatters soft kisses across her flesh, taking purposeful care not to accidentally touch any part of the ruched little peak that’s been tempting him ever since he got her naked.

“So don’t do it.” He licks a circle around the outer edge of her areola with the tip of his tongue, groaning when she pulls, hard, on the locks. “Tell me. You won’t like it if I have to guess.”

“I–” she stammers out, “I want–” and her voice cuts off when he touches his tongue to the tip of her nipple and swirls it around.

He nips sharply at the underside of her breast. “Don’t stop. Keep going, Seras. Tell me.”

“I–” she sputters, her thighs rubbing against his, “touch me–”

“I _am_ touching you, Seras.” But… technically she _did_ answer him, so he rewards her with a long, lingering lick across her peak, one that would have had him one sharp yank on his scalp away from being bald, had he needed to worry about it. “Is that it? Was I not touching you where you needed it?”

Oh. Her face couldn’t _possibly_ get any redder. But Pip is determined to see this little interrogation of his through, so he stays the course, even though he’s so hard at this point that he’d much rather sling her legs over his shoulders and go for broke.

“I–”

“Answer me, little girl,” he murmurs. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

Seras can’t even look him in the face, much less answer him, she’s so embarrassed, but he gives her some incentive in the form of a hard suck on her nipple and, sure enough, the words come tumbling out.

“I–in–” she babbles, and Pip worries the tender little bud gently between his teeth, delighted with the sound of her moans and the sharp jerk of her hips against his. “Please!”

“Where, Seras? Is it here?” he asks, licking her peak with the flat of his tongue, hand snaking down between their bodies to dip between her legs. “Maybe here?” He uses the pad of his middle finger to rub a feather-light circle on the top of her clit, grinning when she grabs at his hand and guides his fingers inside her, her mouth opening when he flexes them experimentally.

He _tsks_. Seras is trying to control his hand, scooting and wriggling around while she pushes and pulls and presses on his fingers in all sorts of ways–Pip knows what she wants and what she’s looking for. He also knows that he won’t be using his fingers to give it to her, and it takes everything in him not to smile at the thought of what’s coming next.

He withdraws, pulling his wrist from her grasp, and she gives a plaintive whine when the last knuckle slips out of her.

“I–had it–” she pants. “Felt it–” and then her head falls back onto the pillow and she groans, loudly, in frustration, gripping the sheets in her white-knuckled hands.

Pip runs a soothing hand up and down her side. “Hush now. I know what you need,” he whispers before sitting back and rolling her onto her stomach, settling himself between her legs. He circles her opening before easing a single finger into her, because he knows it won’t be anywhere near enough to get her off, and he still has more to say. “It’s here, right, Seras? That one spot inside…”

She nods frantically, looking back over her shoulder at him, eyes wide. “Yes!”

He removes the digit to take large, lingering handfuls of her plump ass, squeezing it rhythmically, caressing the skin with his thumbs. Seras gasps and tries to work herself upright, but he lets one cheek go to push her gently back down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Poor thing.” He nuzzles her shoulder, the nape of her neck. “Does it ache? Make you feel _empty?_ ”

“ _Yes…_ ” Oh, she sounds so pitiful. He loves it. 

“I can help with that,” he croons, lifting her onto all fours, positioning himself behind her. “I can fill you up. Only… Seras…” and he pushes the head of his cock into her, sinking into her slowly, centimeter by centimeter. “… it needs a little _rub_ , doesn’t it? That’s what it wants, what _you_ want… it’s only… it’s only that it’s _deep_ , so _deep_ in you, Seras,” he sighs, finally bottoming out, reveling in the feeling of her hot, wet cunt surrounding him, “that it makes it _hard_ … Can you take it? Can you take me this deep?”

“Yes!” She practically shouts it, and he almost covers her mouth out of reflex. But they are in the basement of the manor, her terrifying eldritch demon of a mentor is away, and anyone who matters to them already knows. Let her scream her pretty little head off. He’ll make damn sure that she does.

“ _Good_ ,” he says, rocking into her with slow, deliberate thrusts, adjusting the angle at which she’s bent to make it even deeper. “Take it, Seras. I know you can.”

Seras is pent up enough that she slams herself back against him with such force that, had he been human, would have sent him flying through the wall, but as he is now he just catches her against him and laughs. Pip keeps his hands on her hips, controlling her movements, directing the way she grinds back and down on his cock, trying not to lose himself in the way she stretches and ripples around him.

It takes a few moments but he finds the rhythm easily enough: smooth, direct thrusts finished off with a slow grind that has both of them moaning, Seras with an upward lilt that belies her rising tension and Pip with his teeth grazing the nape of her neck. The angle means that the tip of him hits that spot inside her with every forward stroke, the grind massages it, and the head of his cock drags against it whenever he withdraws, leaving Seras clutching the bedsheets in her fist.

The way they move together borders on perfect and he never wants it to end, but he can see that Seras is starting to tremble and knows it won’t take long before she comes again. Equally urgent, he’s harder than steel and already leaking, but his pride won’t allow him to finish before her, so he decides to speed it up.

He moves faster and faster, driving harder and harder into her until he’s almost dizzy with it, not caring that Seras is shouting loud enough to wake the dead with each movement and that her hips are snapping back artlessly against his own. Her arms and shoulders quiver and _god_ it’s so _good_ , but he wants her to come absolutely _undone_ from it, and he knows that she needs more to push her into such manic territory.

Pip bends onto her, letting her take his weight while one hand circles around to her front. He settles his palm flat between her pelvic bones and, the next time he enters her, presses down hard. The motion grinds the head of his cock relentlessly straight against the little knot that’s been causing her so much trouble, and Seras _screams_ when he doesn’t let up.

He has one more trick in store for her. She’s close to the edge, only a hair’s breadth away and a few more seconds of this would be all she needs, but _he_ wants to _make_ her come. The hand not pressed against her belly comes to rub furiously at her clit, and that’s what ends her.

Seras is always beautiful, but she is exceptionally so whenever she climaxes. Her hips slam back into his, suddenly going motionless, and then she _writhes_ and _bucks_ and _moans_ so wildly that the small pieces of human still left in him fears she’ll hurt herself, clenching around him so tightly that London itself could still be burning outside and neither of them even would notice.

“That’s it, Seras,” he whispers huskily as her climax overtakes her, “that’s it.” _He_ is the one who is close now, gritting his teeth as he continues to work her with his fingers, trying to wring out every little bit he can from her before he finally, _finally_ gets relief. He catches her again on the downstroke one last time, still mercilessly touching her, and her spasms start all over again. “Yes, just like that, Seras,” he groans as his peak reaches him, taking in the look of exhausted bliss on her face as she continues to flutter and shake around his cock. “Just like that.”

Pip comes inside her with a low roar and a muffled curse into her shoulder, easing them both through the aftershocks with gentle rolls of his hips, until her tremors die down at last and he withdraws to lie, panting, on the bed next to her.

He gropes in the bedside table for the carton of Lucky Strikes that he knows she keeps in there specifically for him because, as he’s repeatedly told her, there’s nothing better than a good smoke after a good fuck.

(Seras hasn’t picked up on it yet, but he _always_ smokes when they’re done.)

He flicks the lighter closed, sighing when the nicotine hits him. He has a good smoke, one hell of an afterglow, and his woman lying exhausted and well-loved next to him. A better afterlife than he deserves, indeed. Pip’s not quite sure what he’s done to earn it, but he won’t ask questions he doesn’t want to know the answer to.

Seras is still face down on the mattress, though, unmoving, so he gently shakes her shoulder and asks, “Hey. You still alive?”

She opens her eyes blearily, with a groan and a pout, and he’s so charmed by it that he just stares at her, mouth open, like an idiot. “Mm… I’m alive,” she answers, rolling onto her back to stretch her arms above her head. “You wore me out, though.”

“Good,” he says, and pulls her into his embrace. “The day I don’t is the day you know you need to put me down like a sick old dog.” Seras jerks and stiffens at that–she never likes to broach that subject–but Pip just chuckles, running his fingers over her skin.

They lay together that way–Pip idly tracing nonsense patterns on her lower back, Seras playing softly with his hair. This is the only sort of silence the two of them have ever found any comfort in, and neither one desires to break it.

But Seras does, though, when she ducks her head and asks him, in a shy voice, “It was… _good_ , right?”

He stares at her, dumbfounded and incredulous, his cigarette burning down to the filter. Was it good? What the hell sort of question is that? He’s about to say something snarky and no doubt stupid when he softens–he remembers that Seras is still young at heart, sunnier than any person has a right to be despite all that’s happened to her, and it’s the one thing about her that he always finds a bit gutwrenching.

Good, his ass. It was better than good.

“Oh, you sweet thing.” She is _too much_ , he decides, but her need for validation pleases him anyway. Turning to lie on his back, he takes her with him, cradling her with one arm and flicking the burnt-out cigarette into the ashtray with the other. “Yeah, it was good,” he says, brushing her hair back with one hand. “I don’t blow my load like that for just anyone, you know.”

Seras blushes at his crudeness but smiles nonetheless, turning her face up obediently so he can kiss her, sweetly, on the mouth. She settles against him, her eyes drifting closed–she does not need to sleep but, like most people, she does enjoy a nap every now and then. She cannot sleep in the bed for more than an hour or two at a time–all of her rest must be done in her coffin, and neither of them are ready for him to go back inside her yet–and she’ll probably need to feed when she wakes, but for now…

Pip lights another cigarette, pulls Seras even closer, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. You can pry Pip and Seras from my cold, dead fingers.  
> 2\. Even though it's been shown that Pip has far more autonomy than any other familiar, the ethics of sleeping with someone who literally _has_ to obey you are still a little... iffy. I imagine that Seras allows Pip to take charge during their sexual encounters specifically for that reason (that, and he's far more experienced than her) in an attempt to compensate for the power imbalance.  
> 3\. [title taken from the same song by van morrison](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JFAp3aRJ2vA)


End file.
